


From the Past

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 20:34:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3909706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In any of the idle fantasies John would vehemently have denied ever having, about being faced with two Rodney McKays, he had never imagined that one of them would hate him on sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	From the Past

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "mcsheplets" prompt #201 "blast from the past"

John knew he was in trouble when his bare elbow brushed an Ancient console and the entire wall lit up blue. He knew he was _really_ in trouble when there was suddenly another person in the room, who glared at him with familiar blue eyes in a much, much too young face as Rodney snapped, “What did you do, Sheppard?”

In any of the idle fantasies John would vehemently have denied ever having, about being faced with two Rodney McKays, he had never imagined that one of them would hate him on sight. The second Rodney was three weeks shy of eighteen and starting his second semester of college, angrily demanding answers until Rodney— grown-up Rodney— had hissed something at him John hadn’t been able to hear and he’d gone sullenly silent.

John studied the younger Rodney as he answered his older self’s questions about exactly where he’d been and what he’d been doing immediately before arriving in the Pegasus Galaxy. The eyes were the same, and his general default stubborn expression, but this Rodney hadn’t quite grown into those broad shoulders. His posture was more defiant than arrogant— this Rodney thought he was the smartest person in the room and was ready to prove it, while John’s Rodney _knew_ he was the smartest person in two galaxies and pitied anyone who doubted it.

But John could see how this Rodney had grown up to become the Rodney he knew, and he smiled as the younger man’s expression turned even more stubborn.

“I demand to know where I am and how you brought me here,” he said, arms folded.

“Please,” scoffed the older Rodney. “You’re in no position to demand anything. You’ll know what we want you to know, if and when we want you to know it.”

“I know plenty!” younger Rodney protested. “I know you’re _me_ , only all old, which means… which means you— _I_ — figured out some method of time travel, for which you— I— will no doubt win a Nobel.”

“That’s where your mind goes first, McKay?” said John. “A Nobel?”

The scowl from his Rodney was full of familiar affection, but his younger self’s glare was downright icy.

“I also know that you can’t be working for any kind of legitimate company,” said younger Rodney. “I mean, what kind of lab is this? There’s an inch of dust on everything!”

“It’s Ancient,” said Rodney. “Not— it _is_ ancient, but it’s also— never mind, but it hasn’t been—”

“McKay,” John interrupted. “He shouldn’t know too much about the future, should he?”

Rodney frowned, then shook his head. “I don’t remember this, so either this younger me is from an alternate timeline that diverges from ours at or after this point in his timeline, or he is from our timeline and he won’t remember any of this before he’s me. Either way, anything he learns here won’t affect the future, so we can tell him anything.”

“So you’ll tell me where I am and how you brought me here?” younger Rodney demanded.

“He said that we _could_ tell you, not that we’re _going_ to,” said John, then sighed, “We’ll have to tell him some, though. He needs to be checked out.”

“What?” said Rodney. “Why? He’s _me_.”

“Yeah, and Carson thought he was the original Carson.”

“But he wasn’t evil, or brainwashed, or anything, he was a clone and unstable and— Oh.”

“Right, ‘oh’,” said John.

“Did you say ‘clone’?” asked the younger Rodney.

“No,” John lied.

“Yes,” said Rodney, turning to look at his younger self. “Look, we can’t— won’t— tell you everything, but I will give you the short version. You are me, from the past, so I expect you to keep up. Ten thousand years ago, there was a race called the Ancients— yes, aliens are real, stop gaping— who liked to play scientist and create useless yet potentially deadly machines, then just leave them lying around the universe for any idiot with the Ancient gene to activate.”

“Thanks, John drawled.

Rodney ignored him. “Sheppard has the gene. You don’t. I have the artificial version.”

“Can I—?”

“No,” John and Rodney said, together.

“John? Rodney?” called Teyla’s voice, from the doorway of the lab. Ronon was right behind her, his gun drawn. “We lost radio communication. Are you both all right?”

She came farther into the room and frowned. “Rodney?”

The younger McKay grinned at her, at what he clearly thought was a charming and not creepy manner. “Hi. Who are you?”

John snagged him by the back of his polyester plaid shirt. “Here’s a tip, kid— don’t hit on Teyla. She hits back.”

*

“Aye, Rodney,” said Carson, “he’s you. About eighteen years old, but genetically speaking, this is Meredith Rodney McKay.”

“You told them our first name?” younger Rodney squawked.

“Jeannie did,” his older self dismissed. “And no one cares.”

“What we _do_ care about,” said John, “is figuring out how mini-McKay got here and how we’re going to send him back.”

“Radek has a whole team of non-gene-carriers working on it,” said Rodney. “He’d better have something soon.”

“Dr. Zelenka will give this problem his full attention,” said Teyla. “In the meantime, perhaps we could offer our guest some food and a place to sleep?”

“Food?” younger Rodney repeated.

“It’s just after lunchtime, lad,” said Carson. “Rodney, may you could show young Rodney to the mess hall?”

“What?” said Rodney. “No, no, I have to see what progress Radek’s made with this device. Colonel, maybe it would be better if you stayed with… him.”

John frowned. “You need to eat something, too, McKay.”

“I’ll take something to the lab,” said Rodney, with a look that said, _Can we talk about this later?_

“Fine,” said John, holding Rodney’s gaze until the scientist nodded. “Okay, Mini-Me, lunch awaits.”

Once they left the mess, Teyla left to sit with Kanaan and Torren, and John waved Ronon off to join his regular Marine sparring partners, leaving John alone with the younger Rodney. He collected trays for both of them, rather than risk a rant against citrus that was powered by youthful enthusiasm, and headed for a table out on the balcony.

“Oh, wow,” said the younger Rodney.

There was nothing but crystal-blue ocean as far as the eye could see, but John was captivated by the look of almost childlike wonder on younger Rodney’s face. It was a lot like the look he’d seen on his Rodney’s face when Atlantis had risen, and John felt something warm settle in his chest.

“Hell of a view,” he said.

The kid turned away from the water, scowling, and sat with his back to the balcony rail. “I assume one of those is for me, colonel?”

John slid one tray over, chewing his sandwich slowly and letting younger Rodney’s continued complaints wash over him. The sound was familiar, but different somehow, and it took John a long moment to realize it was the way this Rodney said ‘colonel’ at the end of every other sentence. His Rodney did that, too, but where young Rodney said it flatly, with no inflection, like John was interchangeable with any other colonel, _his_ Rodney always somehow managed to make ‘colonel’ sound like ‘John’.

“I _said_ ,” young Rodney interrupted, “are you going to eat that, colonel?”

“All yours,” said John, passing over the pudding cup he’d gotten purely by habit, after nearly a decade of eating with Rodney— _his_ Rodney didn’t even ask anymore.

“ _McKay to Sheppard_ ,” came a voice over John’s radio, and he sighed gratefully.

“Please tell me you have something, McKay.”

“ _I have several possible theories_ ,” said Rodney, “ _but I’ll need time to run some simulations._ ”

“So, you have nothing,” said John.

He could practically hear Rodney’s scowl over the radio. “ _I have nothing for you to_ shoot, _colonel, if that’s what you’re asking. I want to send my younger self back to his own time and/or reality, not disintegrate him._ ”

“Is that a possibility?”

“ _Only eight percent probability_ ,” Rodney admitted. “ _But that’s still a little high for my liking._ ”

“Sounds like you could use another set of eyes, McKay,” said John. “I could bring your mini-me down to the lab and—”

“ _No_ ,” said Rodney, maybe a little too quickly. “ _No, we don’t want your gene anywhere near this thing, Colonel Careless. You’ll just have to keep the other me out of trouble for a while._ ”

John sighed. “Fine. But you let me know the second you have something.”

“ _Don’t I always? McKay out._ ”

“Right,” said John, to himself. He looked up to see the younger Rodney scowling at him again, and forced a smile. “Hey, how about a game of chess?”

John won four of their five games, mostly because he already knew Rodney’s usual moves and this Rodney didn’t know his, yet. Several times, he caught a smile hovering on the younger Rodney’s face, like he was actually enjoying himself, enjoying John’s company, but then he looked up and scowled, applying himself to trying to put John’s king in check.

They were still in the mess when the first of the dinner crowd started trickling in, casting them curious glances, and John stood, sweeping the chess pieces back into their box.

“We’ll get dinner to go,” he said. “The rumors about mini-McKay will have gotten all over the city by now, but you probably don’t want to stick around and be ‘exhibit A’.”

The younger Rodney, who’d just opened his mouth to say something, shut it again. He was oddly quiet as they got their supper trays— John loading two portions on his, to share with his Rodney— and got into the transporter.

A Marine met them in the corridor to the guest quarters, and the younger Rodney scowled at him. 

“You’re not a prisoner,” said John, who knew an oncoming rant when he saw one. “But you can’t go anywhere in Atlantis without an escort. For your own safety.”

“ _My_ safety?” young Rodney scoffed. “I’m a genius, colonel. I can take care of myself.”

“Not here, you can’t,” John snapped. Any humor at having a teenaged Rodney around was vanishing rapidly. “So until you learn to shoot a gun or read Ancient, you need an escort.”

The kid glared at him for another moment, then turned and walked into the guest quarters, letting the door shut behind him— John was sure he’d have slammed it, if he could.

John sighed and headed for the lab. It was empty except for Rodney, and John set the covered dinner tray on an empty table and crowded right into Rodney’s personal space.

Spending the afternoon with the younger Rodney had reminded him how much he preferred this Rodney, _his_ Rodney, with all of his worry lines, and thinning hair and potentially-cancerous freckles, who did nothing more than _hmm_ in greeting as John wound both arms around his waist and pressed a kiss to Rodney’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey, yourself,” said Rodney. “Where’s my other self?”

“Guest quarters. I…” John paused, then said, “I don’t think he likes me.”

“What?” Rodney turned in his arms, frowning. “He’s _me_ , Sheppard. Why wouldn’t he like you?”

“I don’t know,” John admitted. “We ate lunch and played chess. You used to be him, McKay, don’t you have any ideas?”

“For understanding my almost-eighteen-year-old self?” the scientist scoffed. “I was running mostly on hormones and arrogance back then.”

“Rodney…”

“I don’t know, okay? I hated everyone at that age, but it was more a general disdain for humanity than anything specific.”

“Of course it was,” John muttered. “C’mon, Rodney. It’s not that grown-up you is working for the US government, is it? Or that I’m military?”

Rodney shook his head. “After that visit from the CIA in grade six, I had pretty much figured I would work for one government or another, and the US has always had the best toys. And I suppose I thought the military were all idiots— there were some Army ROTC students on campus and they were jerks, but I was a jerk, too, so I can’t see that making a difference.”

“Hmm,” said John. “Are you actually making any progress with this?”

“I’m—” Rodney began, then slumped. “No. The device appears dormant, now, and there was nothing in or around the wall on the planet that was remotely useful.”

“You’ll figure it out, buddy,” John said, firmly. “Food, then sleep, and you’ll have it cracked by lunch tomorrow, at the latest.”

“Food?” Rodney asked, hopefully, and John laughed, picking up the covered tray.

“Dinner for two. C’mon, Rodney, let’s go home.”

*  
Rodney never got the chance to prove John right, because a crisis struck during breakfast. 

“ _Unexplained energy spikes are appearing all over the city_ ,” reported Chuck, from the Control Room. “ _And we’re getting blips on the life sign scanners. Not human, not Wraith, but definitely not glitches._ ”

“And how would you know that?” Rodney demanded, but John interrupted, “Sergeant, get security teams to all the sensitive locations, and keep me updated.”

“ _Yes, sir._ ”

John clicked off his radio, watching his team get up from the breakfast table to follow him, Rodney already yelling at Zelenka over his own radio, Teyla bending to kiss Torren and Kanaan goodbye, Ronon shoveling a few last bites of pancake into his mouth, the younger Rodney—

“You stay here,” John snapped at him.

The kid scowled. “I can help.”

John heisted and Rodney snorted, “He’s _me_ , Sheppard. He’s going to do whatever he’s thinking anyway, so it’ll be better if we know where he is. Besides, I could use another brain that’s almost as brilliant as my own.”

“ _Almost?_ ” his younger self spluttered, but everyone ignored him.

“Let’s go,” said John.

By the time the team had collected their gear, Chuck reported that the energy signatures had begun to localize in an unused section of the city, still under repair after their flight to Earth and then back to Pegasus.

“This is definitely where the spikes originated,” said Rodney, glancing up from his scanner. “I’m getting—”

“Look!” cried Teyla, suddenly.

A light floated in the middle of the corridor, something like a firefly in a soap bubble, which flashed and vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

“O…kay,” John said, slowly. “Rodney—”

“Working,” the scientist said, distracted. 

More lights appeared along the hallway, winking on and off at random.

“Don’t touch them,” said John. “Everybody, stay put. McKay—”

“ _Working_ ,” said Rodney. “There doesn’t seem to be a pattern.”

“Are they solid?” John asked. “Like the mini drones? Or energy, like those fireflies that ate the ten-thousand-year-old Wraith?”

“Energy,” said Rodney, then frowned. “Not like— those weren’t even— Leave the science to the professionals, colonel. These aren’t self-sustaining. They’re more like, like static electricity.”

“So something is causing it,” said Ronon.

“Yes,” said Rodney. “We just need to find it and turn it off.”

“Okay,” said John. “Teyla, Ronon, you take the left side of the hall. The Rodneys and I will take the right.”

“And don’t touch anything,” repeated Rodney, with a glare at his younger self, as Teyla and Ronon disappeared around the corner.

“I don’t have the ‘special’ gene,” said the younger Rodney. “I can’t do anything just by touching.”

“Okay, what is your problem, kid?” John demanded. “You don’t like me, fine. But Rodney is you, you’re him. Can’t you at least cooperate long enough not to get yourself— and more importantly, him— killed?”

“That’s _exactly_ my problem,” the younger Rodney snapped. “You! And the fact that I grow up to be this stupid!”

“Hey!” Rodney protested, as John said, “What?”

The teenager continued to glare. “You only care about him— _me_ — because he’s useful. Solve your problems, fix your weapons, do your homework. You’re not even his friend, let along— You, with your slouching and playing chess, and your stupid flirty hair, you… you’re going to break his heart and you don’t even care.”

“I— What?” said John, as his brain tried to make sense of that. “It isn’t— it’s not—”

He was interrupted by Rodney’s scanner and the two dozen lights that began flashing around their heads. 

“I think we found the source,” said John.

“Energy readings had doubled, tripled, but I can’t find exactly where it’s coming from,” said Rodney. “Sheppard, start thinking ‘off’ as hard as you can.”

John closed his eyes, focusing on the familiar/alien feeling of Ancient tech, but when he opened them again, there were _more_ of the lights.

“Plan B?” asked John.

“Um…” said Rodney.

“McKay!”

“I know, I know… Ah!” Rodney approached one of the darkened consoles at the edge of the room. “The signal seems to be centered around this—”

He reached out for the console, and John felt a spike of _wrongness_ from the device as it registered Rodney’s artificial gene. John didn’t even try to shout a warning, he just darted forward to pull Rodney away from the console, twisting them so that his back was to it and thinking ‘off’ so hard he was fairly sure he’d actually shouted it out loud. He pushed Rodney away just as the machine activated, creating a concussive wave that knocked him back and into the far wall. 

All of the lights flickered out instantly., the floating bugs as well as all the interior lights, leaving just the stained glass windows to let in any illumination.

“John!” Rodney cried, crouching beside him and starting to run worried hands over him, checking for injury. “What the hell? You had better not be hurt, you stupid, reckless, self-sacrificing—”

John groaned and opened his eyes. He needed to blink a few times to clear his vision, but the room stayed still as he slowly sat up, and caught Rodney’s hand. “I’m fine, Rodney. Really.”

“Which for you, just means you’re not immediately dying. Carson might be a practitioner of voodoo, but I still trust him with your health more than I trust you.”

“Rodney,” John said, smiling. “I’m _fine_.”

“You…” They both looked up, surprised, at the younger Rodney. “You saved him. You got hurt saving him.”

John stood, using Rodney’s arm for support until he was on his feet. “Of course I did. Look, kid, I don’t know where you got the idea that I don’t care about him— you— grown-up you— because I do. A lot.”

Rodney smiled. “I think it’s a little more than ‘care’, Sheppard. You did marry me, after all.”

“You did _what_!?” his younger self spluttered. “But you never said! You were—”

“—an emotionally stunted idiot?” John finished, smiling. “Yeah, my Rodney tells me that all the time. So, we’re cool?”

“You’re cool,” said the younger Rodney. “But I’m good.”

John laughed and slung one arm over his Rodney’s shoulders to pull him close enough for a brief kiss. “I’m glad you never change, McKay,” he said. “C’mon, let’s go give everybody the all-clear.”

THE END


End file.
